Suparna
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Harry Potter can't escape his ancestry, or the consequences of coming back from the dead. When a curious transformation causes him to fall in love with Lucius Malfoy, his honor forces him to aid the man in Azkaban.


I can't seem to stop writing today. This is random, unplanned and likely due to the pain medication I'm on at the moment.

* * *

Lucius awoke in complete darkness.

This alone was disconcerting. He'd been in Azkaban for ten years; more than long enough to grow accustomed to the dark and see even in the latest hours of the night. It felt like a magical concealment, the touch of it ghosting along his skin like a cold fog.

Quelling his panic, he listened. In a place like this calling for the guards was libel to get you in trouble even if you legitimately needed their help, and he was still in pain from the last attack that had nearly taken his left leg he still remembered the sting of the guards sticks as they whipped him on the way to the hospital wing for treatment. Apparently his plight had interrupted a game of cards and they cared less for his life than the winnings. It may have simply been someone making rounds that had cast this concealment and Lucius didn't want to cry out unless absolutely necessary. He'd lost too much pride as it was already.

He knew he'd lost much of what he had been before in his torment here. He was no longer so brave or controlled, he openly allowed himself to curl up like a child in his bed after the nightmares became too much. Yes, he hid from the other prisoners and misbehaved just enough to have his meals taken to his room so he didn't have to eat in a hall crowded with people who wanted to attack him. Yes, he obeyed the guards as best he could and ducked his head to stay their ire rather than hold his head high like a Malfoy ought to. Some would have called his learned behaviors in Azkaban cowardice. He called it **survival**.

He only hoped he hadn't gone too mad and was hallucinating again, letting his fears get the best of him.

Something moved in the corner of his room away from the door and his eyes locked onto it immediately. The concealment parted for it smoothly as it stood, green eyes glowing sharply bright in the dark. Lucius stared in terror, heart beating with rapid insistence to flee in his ears. The creature glowed a dark, ominous and obviously hot red. It was two heads taller than the prisoner it stalked, and the shape of a large muscular man with red wings barely small enough to keep from brushing the ceiling in the small cell. In his shock Lucius only stirred when the thing took a step toward him.

Though he knew it was powerful and had no faith in their ability to stop it, Lucius leapt from his bed and banged his already bruised fists on the metal door. "Guards!" he called desperately, panic evident in the shrill sound of his voice. "**GUARDS**!"

_They cannot hear you._

Gasping, he whirled around and cringed back with an involuntary whine when he saw how close it had gotten to him. It stood less than three paces from him, wings bent toward him to block him in. The light it emitted radiated warmth and Lucius suspected it would reduce him to ashes if the thing got any closer. From this distance he could see every detail of it. It was naked and bronzed, smiling with indulgent patience, and looming over him like a mountain. He raised his arms and cowered like a child.

"No!" He knew arguing at this point was useless, but he'd never forgive himself if he didn't try. He was to go back home in less than a week. His sentence would be over. "I'm so close. I need to live. I must see my wife again, my son. Please. I need to live."

_Do not be afraid, Lucius. I will not hurt you. _

A hand settled on his wrist and he made a keening noise in his throat, fully expecting his arm to burst into flames. Instead it was merely a soothing warmth; close to uncomfortably hot, but not quite. As his panic settled into a less debilitating terror he finally heard and understood the words coming through his legilimency walls and swallowed, embarrassed by how badly he was trembling. The only still part of his body was held in the steady grip of the creature. He wondered wildly how this thing knew his name, or if it was a wizard doing this simply to frighten him.

_I have known you a long time. I do not mean to frighten you. Please. Calm yourself._

Slowly Lucius allowed his free arm to fall and he dared to look up at the winged thing kneeling over him. He avoided looking over its body again, hoping he hadn't insulted it before. He blinked away tears he hadn't realized were there and flinched when the creature's other hand came up to gently wipe the rest from his face.

Lucius knew how filthy he was. There were probably unsightly trails of lighter skin where the tears had been and he swallowed his humiliation. It was impossible to shower in this place unless one preferred assault by rapists or being brutalized and mutilated to being clean. He'd learned that the hard way upon his second coming here. His reputation had fallen hard after the war's end after he'd defected, and now he was nothing more than another blood traitor and victim to those who hadn't faltered in their devotion to the Dark Lord. His humiliation rose again as he realized how he must smell.

_Let me help you._

The hand on his face burst into flame.

Lucuis screamed. He thrashed and struggled, trying to duck away from the licking tendrils of fire before he lost too much of his flesh and wouldn't survive it. Arms encircled him tightly and a low crooning sound settled over his shoulder as the creature held him close.

_Wait. Please. Forgive me. I should have warned you. Hush. Hush, Lucius. I have not hurt you._

Lucius couldn't help himself. He wept brokenly; years of fear, pain, and stress bleeding out of him in waves. It was true, he couldn't feel any pain. It had simply startled him. He could feel his skin whole and unharmed against the creature's chest as he let his head rest there while he mourned. It seemed hours that he lie there curled up and gently rocked by the creature that had intruded in his cell, but it probably only a matter of minutes. That hand stroked his hair, though Lucius couldn't see the light of the fire anymore, and eventually he stopped simpering.

He was released and allowed to sit back on the floor with his back against the door and reached up to wipe the tears and grime from his face. The creature waited patiently for him to collect himself and spoke, if one could call it that, only when it had his attention again. It was smiling.

_You're usually so guarded against emotion, Lucius. Though I'd prefer other ones, you're beautiful when you're frightened. Perhaps that is why Voldemort kept you so close._

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, drawing his legs to his chest to get them as far away from the creature as possible. He had flinched at the Dark Lord's name, and hoped that this creature wasn't an acquaintance of his.

It put a hand to its chest over where a human heart would be and leaned as if to bow.

_I want to help you._

"Why?"

_I simply do. My reasons are my own. Now, I am going to use the flames again. Please don't panic this time. Though I can appreciate your beauty when you are overcome with emotion, I do not enjoy causing you pain._

The creature lifted both hands and let the flames forth. It watched Lucius carefully before slowly reaching toward his legs. The wizard recoiled sharply at first contact, but when the flames didn't hurt him he allowed it to guide his legs back away from his torso to the floor. Even his sorry Azkaban uniform didn't burn under the touch and Lucius swallowed in relief. He only blinked in confusion when the creature slid off his worn slip on shoes.

"What are you doing?" he asked anxiously.

_Undressing you._

Lucius took a steadying breath. He prayed this wasn't a type of incubus. If nothing else it would be disappointed when it found his genitals had been mutilated by an assault years ago and rendered him impotent. Just then it paused in lifting his shirt off and looked at him with a low growl, glowing a bit brighter in anger. Of course it could read his thoughts, that was how he'd been hearing it all this time! Eyes wide, Lucius brought a trembling hand to his mouth to quell the shriek he knew was rising.

_Oh, Lucius. You've been hurt. I am merely undressing you because I cannot heal what I cannot see. I am not so foul as to press congress on those unwilling of it._

He knew he was on the verge of tears again, but fought it fiercely. All he could manage was a nod.

Once his shirt was tossed aside the creature began running it's blazing hands over his skin as if petting him. Lucius squirmed. "I have no injuries there," he practically whined.

_I am bathing you. See how the flames cleanse?_

He did. Every part of his body those hands ran over came away bright and clean. The fires may not be burning him, but they were incinerating the filth that clung to him. A slight smoke came after and smelt of Cinnamon and Myrrh, as the creature itself did. It touched him everywhere, even lifting his arms to clean his nasty armpits, separating his fingers and running careful claws through his tangled mess of hair. Lucius fought not to vomit when he heard the lice infesting his body snap and pop under the onslaught, shame and revulsion shuddering through him almost as fiercely as his terror.

_It isn't your fault. There's no reason to be ashamed. And they are gone now, so do not worry yourself._

It was true. Lucius felt cleaner than he had in years. Even his usual reluctance to let even healers touch his lower half, being that he was accustomed to none other than his wife or himself touching him intimately, dissolved in the wake of relief in being clean. He sighed in gratitude for the gift and let the creature position his limbs and lift him however it liked to get the job done and only felt shy again when there were no more flames and it was simply looking over his scars and injuries. The first thing it did was bow its head and shudder a bit, bringing those wings around closer to cradle Lucius. Then it looked at him with shining eyes. Not a light - but from tears.

_I am going to prepare you for healing. Don't be afraid. I will dull your pain, and heal what I destroy. The wounds must be opened to close properly._

The wizard took a breath, held it, then let it out slowly. "I'm ready."

The tears confused him. Was it mourning for his pain? Did it sense his fear? He fought to keep still when one of those claws slashed open the long, jagged wound in his leg that had almost warranted amputation. The blood flowed freely and fast, and he felt dizzy at the sight of it. Then the creature leaned forward and let two tears fall on the wound. It sizzled as if boiling, then healed shut without a trace of a scar.

"You're a phoenix," Lucius whispered in wonder.

_Suparna. And only by half. A true Suparna would be able to heal you with the flames alone, but I must make do with those tools I have inherited. _

It continued to heal him, scratching open scars all over his body and letting its tears fall to close them as if they had never existed. Finally it reached down and gently cupped his sex, examining it. He was badly deformed from the attack, barely able to use the lavatory when he sat and pushed the mangled flesh downward into the bowl. He had discovered, though, that he could still find some pleasure in gently massaging it, though he couldn't produce seed since they'd removed his testicles.

Far from feeling relieved this too could be cured, Lucius clenched his eyes shut and fiercely thought of Narcissa. Having been raised in the old ways he was, if nothing else, a loyal man. He could bear doctors, though not without a fair amount of guilt. But from the assaults he had suffered here, and this creature touching him, Lucius felt he'd betrayed her. That pain solidified into a solid, heavy core in his gut. There was something distinctly sexual about the energy of this thing and it frightened and unsettled him. He opened his eyes only when the hands left him and he looked curiously at the creature.

It seemed upset and the tears didn't seem deliberate now. Sorrow gripped the wizard. "You can't heal it?"

_I can. Look away. Do not watch this. Cover your face and turn away._

Lucius obeyed and held his breath. As with the other wounds he felt no pain when he was cut, but a pressure that told him where it was. He let out a broken sob when he realized he'd been castrated. He almost tried to escape, but took a few quick, deep breaths to calm himself when the creature rubbed his thighs to soothe him.

_Hush. I can heal it. I can heal it. Do not cry._

Cool droplets landed on the gaping wound and he felt new flesh spring from it. Lucius let out a relieved whoosh of breath and looked, gratefully, at his restored sex. "Thank you." he managed weakly, wiping his eyes. He'd known Narcissa would accept him that way. They already had a child after all, and their relationship had always been too deep for dependency on pleasure to sustain it, but it was a relief to know he could join with her again.

Slowly, as if disappointed, the creature stood and turned away. Lucius watched while it gave the same treatment to his bed to cleanse it of parasites that may infest him again, then folded its wings tightly and stared out the window.

Still embarrassed, Lucius stood and pulled on the now clean uniform. He waited for another thought, or motion; something to tell him what to do now that the creature seemed finished with him. Finally, it turned toward him.

_I must leave you. _

"How can I thank you?" he asked slowly, hoping the price asked wouldn't be too steep.

_Enjoy your life and family. That is all._

And with that the creature was obscured in sweet-smelling mist. When it dissappated, the creature was gone, but Lucius's hair still smelled of Myrrh for months after.

* * *

Harry sighed to himself as he took flight away from Azkaban. He knew he had no chance with Lucius, despite his instincts screaming at him that the man was a perfect genetic match for his power. At some time in his ancestry the original Suparna had mated with a witch that the Malfoys descended from. Harry's blood recognized their scent and taste, and he craved the contact of the closest relation to his ancient sire's mate. But Harry also wanted devotion, someone he could be with fairly and without taking them away from someone they already loved. Lucius was so devoted to Narcissa that hoping for his cooperation was pointless.

*Oh, well,* Harry thought with a smile. There was always Draco and, if that prospect failed, Harry could wait for Scorpius to mature. Either way, he would have his mate.


End file.
